


Frustrating

by Pseudthisyafucks (collettephinz)



Category: Holy Trinity - RPF, Youtube - RPF
Genre: Alternature Universe - ghosts, Vaguely described sex, Yellow-Lens Ghost AU, cause lets be real, he's the sexiest when he's not trying to be, inner monologue, my unhealthy obsession with felix's hands told through a dead guy, no beard, only rumination, repetition of the word frustrating for thematic devices, that tag seems necessary, there is no dialogue, unwittingly sexy felix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 00:46:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12783243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/Pseudthisyafucks
Summary: Felix didn’t realize how fucking sexual he was. Every little thing Felix did had undertones of sensuality and languid grace. Even when Felix tripped down the stairs, he somehow found a way to do it so he ended up with his ass in the air and his back arched towards the ground. Felix’s neighbor thought that Felix was constantly coming onto her with how often he would accidentally cock his hip when talking to her, and how he would touch his own face when talking about things he was having trouble remembering the details of. If Jack were her, he’d be thinking the same thing.old tumblr story i wrote foryellow-lens'ghost AU that i totally forgot to post let me remedy that my dudes





	Frustrating

**Author's Note:**

> again, this is [yellow-lens'](http://yellow-lens.tumblr.com) Ghost AU Jelix and i'm trash who can't actually write sex so i'm super sorry i did my best i'm gonna go into my self deprecating tunnel of despair and lay's potato chips not that baked shit the OG potato chip that melts on your tongue and tastes like salty cardboard after like ten chips

Frustrating

There was something incredibly inconvenient about being a ghost in a relationship with a living being. 

Jack was sure that the mechanics would be difficult between anyone undead and anyone among the living. It wasn’t hard to grasp, either. One of you could be touched, the other couldn’t touch anything at all. So that basically ruled out all physical relations of any romantic intentions. Or any physical relations at all. No hugs, no touches of the wrist, no holding of the hips— just listless floating nearby and feeling like an ice cube when accidentally passing through that poor fleshy ones. There was a reason why all ghost stories of romance ended with some form of tragedy, and Jack had been stubbornly avoiding the possible ends Felix’s life could meet. 

There were many sad things about this kind of relationship. Jack couldn’t soothe Felix’s pain with anything more than words when Felix awoke in the middle of the night, screaming of fire. He couldn’t do much more than talk Felix through his panic attacks. Felix couldn’t talk about Jack to anyone, so Jack really didn’t exist once another human being came anywhere close to within earshot. He couldn’t kiss Felix good morning and goodnight and good whenever-the-fuck-he-wanted like other humans could. He couldn’t hold Felix’s hand. Couldn’t press their bodies together. Couldn’t hold Felix in the cold nights. Couldn’t, couldn’t, fucking couldn’t, and it was frustrating. So unbelievably frustrating. 

There were many good things about their relationship too, don’t get him wrong. There was the way Jack could always be at Felix’s side without anyone thinking it was some weird form of codependency and not just Jack’s innate need to keep Felix safe. He could make jokes that would cheer Felix up during stressful times at work. He could do the regular chores around the house and Felix wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

He could undress Felix with a thought. That was a weird one he enjoyed a little too much. It would never be anything crazy, of course, he’d maybe just tug Felix’s pants a little too low down his hips, or lift Felix’s shirt up to show miles of beautiful, pale skin. He’d never actually strip Felix without his consent, of course, and it wasn’t like consent hadn’t been given before.

That was another frustrating thing. The lack of sex. Jack hadn’t ever been a very sexual creature even when he had his body, because alchemy and science was his preference for how he’d spent his time. But back then, Jack hadn’t had a Felix. He hadn’t had another person that he was so obsessively attracted to that alchemy actually became the distraction. Jack knew he should be spending more of his time finding ways to get his body back, but have you seen Felix? The way he would walk? Talk? Put his hands in the air? Put his hands on things? Cups, tables, shirts, railings, fucking anything. Have you seen the way Felix can turn the most mundane object into something entirely suggestive?

That was the most frustrating part about Jack’s life. Felix. Felix as the most frustrating part. Because Felix was one of those rare kinds of people who were so completely mesmerizing and yet had no clue. Felix had no idea how fucking gorgeous he was. Jack saw how everyone looked at Felix on the streets. A Swede in the UK was something to marvel over, as blondes were just a little rarer than you’d think. Then there was how Felix would dress in his dark, heavy clothes. Nothing formfitting, nothing that stood out, nothing that accentuated the lines of Felix’s body and the curves of his thighs. Felix wore the most nondescript fucking clothing and no one could look away. Jack wished he was in a body just so he could glare at anyone that looked at Felix just a little too long. Maybe cut off a finger or two (so maybe he did have a problem with the overprotective codependency thing). 

The hardest part was that Jack was one of those fucking freaks that couldn’t look away either. Skinny jeans and large jackets, the way Felix would hunch over in public. It was arresting. It was entrancing. And Jack could stare all he wanted because no one could see Jack and Felix made a point of not seeing what Jack was doing when they were outside. 

So Jack would watch. He would watch a lot, probably way more than was actually appropriate. Way more than what was healthy. As Jack had always had… urges for his own sex, he’d never really let himself look like he’d wanted to back in his old time. But now homosexuality was generally accepted, and no one could see Jack, so he could look as much as he wanted to. Which was now a lot. 

And it was _frustrating._

Felix didn’t realize how fucking sexual he was. Every little thing Felix did had undertones of sensuality and languid grace. Even when Felix tripped down the stairs, he somehow found a way to do it so he ended up with his ass in the air and his back arched towards the ground. Felix’s neighbor thought that Felix was constantly coming onto her with how often he would accidentally cock his hip when talking to her, and how he would touch his own face when talking about things he was having trouble remembering the details of. If Jack were her, he’d be thinking the same thing. 

Felix didn’t notice how his shirt would ride up when he went for a mug in the upper cupboard. He didn’t notice how his body glowed and shone in the light after coming out of the shower, dressed in pajamas and smiling tiredly at Jack. He didn’t notice how he would let out soft moans as he found the perfect position to lie in on the mattress. He didn’t notice how ragged and strung out his voice would sound upon waking up.

It was so fucking frustrating, because on top of all of this temptation, all of this _fucking sin_ , Jack couldn’t touch. He couldn’t reach to that exposed skin and sink his teeth in, leave marks behind. He couldn’t touch Felix’s glowing, wet skin. He couldn’t swallow those gentle moans with his lips and he couldn’t make Felix’s voice ragged at the edges from more than just a good night’s sleep. 

But he could watch. 

It was their compromise. 

The only thing that kept Jack from puling his hair out, from losing his fucking mind. Because while Felix didn't realize what he did to Jack, he could see the aftermath regardless. And he always offered the only thing he could give. He could let Jack watch.

Jack would watch Felix spread himself out across the couch, or the counter, or the bed. Anytime that it could be allowed and Jack’s eyes would get a little too dark and his grip on objects a little too loose, Felix would steady himself and let Jack watch. 

Jack had favorite parts of Felix’s body, that wasn’t a surprise to either of them. Felix would cater to every desire. He’d drag those skinny jeans down his legs and spread them wide, let Jack take in the smooth, perfect skin of Felix’s inner thighs. And he tug his shirt up, put the bottom in his teeth so it would show off just the right amount of Felix’s chest, pulled up to his gorgeous collarbone. He tease his boxers down his hips, make a show of touching every part of his body except the place that Jack knew he and Felix wanted Felix to touch more than anywhere else. But Felix would take his time. He’d draw it out because that was the only way he’d be able to satisfy himself until the next time they actually had time. 

It wasn’t like Felix could just sneak off into a stall when Jack’s control became fragile. It wasn’t like Jack could crowd Felix into a dark corner of a bar, or an alley way. It wasn’t like he could just slip a hand down Felix’s pants under a desk and let Felix do what he needed to do to get off. That was frustrating. 

For the moment, Jack would take what he could get. He’d watch Felix tease his own body, pinch his nipples, maybe squeeze his inner thigh hard enough to leave a mark for later. Then Felix would finally give in and wrap a hand around his cock. The gasp that would sound through the room would be from either Jack or Felix, the results varied. Jack would settle between Felix’s knees, get as close as he could without touching Felix and freezing him. He would look down Felix’s body, watch Felix’s chest heave as he breathed in time with the strokes of his hands. 

Felix’s fucking hands. The way he could hold a cup and make it sexual was nothing compared to the way those long fingers would look wrapped around his own cock. The sight could take Jack’s breath away. And up close, he could hear everything. He could hear the wet sounds of Felix’s arousal, he could hear the tiny little moans and whimpers escaping Felix’s lips. He could hear the creak of the counter or the bed or couch when Felix’s hips trembled and thrusted into his grip without his permission. 

Felix would look up at him the closer he got. He’d tilt his head back and stare into Jack, eyes hooded and dark and begging for something that Jack couldn’t give. Felix’s mouth would hang open and the most wanton noises would be strangled out of his throat. Jack would know he was close by the way Felix would try to keep quiet when his voice should be doing nothing but escalating, like he was scared of being too loud. Jack didn’t mind. Jack wanted Felix to fucking scream. Especially when Felix was unable to contain even the quietest little gasps of Jack’s name. 

And then, right before his climax, Felix would do this weird thing. He’d lean in close and press his lips to where Jack would have been. Goosebumps would raise across Felix’s flesh and his entire body would tremble through his orgasm, though Jack didn’t know if it was from the pleasure or the cold. Felix would pant out Jack’s name and squeeze his legs shut, through Jack, tensing and enjoying the aftershocks. 

Jack couldn’t understand why Felix would try to kiss him at the end of it. The cold touch of a ghost was entirely unpleasant, Jack had been assured that it always would be by those who wanted him to suffer. Yet here Felix was, on the edge of orgasm, always lifting his head to kiss Jack and feel that horrible cold. Jack couldn’t understand it, couldn’t understand why Felix would want to mix such a horrible feeling with his pleasure. It was… 

Frustrating. 

It was frustrating to know that Felix had to subject himself to something like that just for a moment of connection with Jack. He would always smile at Jack at the end of it, always beam up at him with such love and devotion in his eyes, like he was grateful for the horrible cold that stayed with you for hours. Jack couldn’t understand why Felix felt like that cold was worth it and it frustrated him, because he knew, beyond a shadow of a fucking doubt, that if the roles were reversed, Jack would live in that terrible cold for his entire life if it meant he could give Felix the comfort of a symbolic kiss. 

In the middle of all of this frustration, Jack knew that he was the luckiest fucking person in existence (beyond life and death). He could’ve fallen in love with anyone. He could’ve fallen for the neighbor, or the landlord, or the woman who delivered flowers, or the man who jogged past the building every morning. Jack could’ve fallen for anyone, but not just anyone could handle a relationship with a demon-obsessed, time-befuddled ghost. No one would have that kind of patience or that intimate understanding of the nuances of death and grieving. No one else would be okay with near-celibacy. What kind of living, breathing human would be okay with being in a relationship that couldn’t satisfy carnal needs? Jack was a scientist and it didn’t make sense. That’s how he knew he was lucky beyond reason to have Felix. 

Felix understood the limits of Jack’s abilities. He’d suggested toys once, things that Jack could manipulate and use on Felix’s body, but the idea of Jack using some weird object on Felix felt colder than the kisses he could barely give. Felix understood that Jack couldn’t do anything other than watch and he didn’t begrudge Jack for it. He was gracious and patient and nothing but considerate to the limits. He was so much more than Jack deserved and Jack loved him for it. 

When at the end of it, Felix would look up at Jack, satiated and devoted and pink in the cheeks. He would arch his spine and stretch, let his body relax as the last of the pleasure ran through him like water. He smiled up at Jack and say: “I love you.” And Jack would know that there was never going to be anyone more perfect for Jack in the world than Felix. 

Then Felix would hop off the counter with his boxers and pants still pooled on the floor. Felix’s shirt would barely cover his ass and the swing of his hips would bring Jack to the brink of self control all over again. 

And it was frustrating.


End file.
